Left not just my heart
But pieces of my very being,
Scattered like ashes
In a house on a hill
In a city called San Francisco
***
I wrote this poem while I was asleep. In the dream, I was walking around the house I grew up in, crying at finally being able to see it again (I’ve been back since but haven’t gone inside).
I was very attached to our house as a kid. Reading this poem now, I believe the dream represents the parts of my being that became disjointed, or scattered, as a child. After all, when do we experience more trauma to our authentic selves than as children? As I walk around the house in the dream, I reclaim those lost parts of my being by reconnecting with my home, the place I felt most safe at the time.
The fact that I actually dreamed this feels like a really interesting study of both trauma and the process of healing. Clearly feeling safe is a key component in being able to reclaim those lost parts of ourselves. ✨✨✨
Comments (5)
Hi Joelle, I have not abandoned you. I think of you all the time, your beautiful spirit, your independence of thought and your kindness. This poem brought tears to my eyes. Thinking of my home always makes me sad, missing all the childhood memories. I love your heart and depth of emotions. It is what makes your writing so great. I am glad you went back, even if you did no go inside. It kind of brings closure. Be kind to your heart.
I loved your poem! The fact that you wrote it while asleep, whoaaaa! I also like the connection between trauma and the process of healing!
I had a friend talk to me about meditating and consciously going to all the houses she lived in to reclaim the energy she left there as a child…. This sounds so powerful and similar… and a reminder it’s would be beneficial for me to do perhaps! By 33, I counted that I had moved houses 33 times 😵💫 (to this day I still have anxiety to even pack a suitcase!)
Very interesting. The poem itself is quite engaging. But then adding your context & reflections made it even more thought provoking.
It’s so funny, the things that haunt us long after we’ve left them behind. I also have been working through a lot of memories about my childhood and the house I lived in. My brain keeps feeding them to me in my sleep - and I want to go back to that place and put the fragments together in a new light, but the house isn’t ours anymore, so I wonder where that leaves me. Gorgeous poem. A gift from your subconscious!